I do not own the Thunderbirds, I'm just playing with them.
Two Men Down
Jeff put his mug of coffee down hurriedly as Scott's comm signal flashed up on the wall opposite, his eyes flashing on the handsome photograph.
"Come in Scott."
"Father!" Scott's normally cheerful face looked worried.
"Mission successful, dad. We're on our way back. Get the sick bay ready double quick."
"Of course son, what happened? Who's been hurt, and how did it happen?"
"I'll tell you everything when we get there dad. Alan and Virgil have both been injured. Gordon is flying Thunderbird Two; I have the other two with me in Thunderbird One. Alan especially is in a bad way. I…I... I think we might lose him dad!"
When his eldest son signed off, Jeff Tracy stared ahead of him in shock for several seconds. Virgil and Alan both injured, Alan seriously! What the hell had gone wrong out there, and why couldn't Scott have given him some kind of a clue on air? Suddenly, his mind clicked into gear and he stabbed at one of the arrays of buttons in front of him.
"Brains! Tintin!"
The urgency in his voice brought them hurrying straight to his office, Tintin with her hands covered in flour, and Brains covered in industrial cabling and oil.
"What is it Mr. Tracy?" Tintin asked, in her purring voice, and frowned. Something was very wrong here. Brains looked worried. He had never seen that look on his boss's face before.
Swiftly Jeff relayed to them Scott's radio call and instructed them to make haste to get the sickroom ready for Alan and Virgil and whatever treatment they might require. Stunned, the two nodded and hurried away. Jeff took a deep breath and pressed the comm button again.
"This is International Rescue Base calling Thunderbird Five. Come in Thunderbird Five. This is base. Do you read me?"
John's photograph on the wall was replaced by the video-link. His usually cheerful, good-natured face looked white and scared.
"Thunderbird Five here. Reading you loud and clear dad! Any news about Alan and Virgil?"
"They're not here yet John. Do you know what happened to them? Scott wouldn't say a thing!"
John's eyes lowered.
"I was monitoring their communications when I heard a loud commotion, and a lot of shouting, sounds of what I took to be gunshots and then Scott's voice screaming their names before another loud bang, and the radio went dead. I've been up here imagining all kinds of things."
"All Scott would tell me was that the mission was successful, but that Alan and Virgil were hurt, and he's afraid we will lose Alan!"
All the remaining colour drained from John's face.
"Lose the kid? That doesn't even bear thinking about!"
It seemed like forever before Thunderbird One arrived home and reversed back into its hangar. By the time Jeff arrived down there, Brains, Tintin and Kyrano were helping Scott to carry two stretchers from the cramped passenger cabin of the sleek little rocket. The two boys were strapped onto their stretchers, eyes closed. As they hurried through the house, Jeff quizzed Scott sharply, his concern for his two younger sons making his voice sound rather sharper than he had intended.
"How were they injured boy? What happened out there?"
"I'm sorry sir." Scott sounded uncharacteristically beaten. "There was nothing we could do. We got those people out of the building before it collapsed, and then one of them brought a pair of automatic pistols out of nowhere and started shouting that he was going to kill everyone. Everyone started screaming and shouting in panic, throwing themselves on the floor. The madman started firing at random in every direction. Two of the people we rescued were slightly hurt when bullets grazed their arms, Alan tried to help the two people that were grazed by the bullets, and that made the man even more crazy and he shot at Alan three times with the gun in his left hand. Virgil shot his light beam directly in the man's eyes. The man had run out of bullets by then, so he picked up a large rock and hurled it at Virgil before the police brought him to the ground. The rock hit Virgil on the head, and he's been unconscious ever since. Alan needed medical attention on the scene before I could even move him. He took two bullets, one to the heart and one to the stomach."
"Oh my god!" Jeff breathed. "Shot at for saving people's lives…"
Late that night, Jeff was allowed into the sick room. Virgil was still unconscious. Jeff looked up at Brains and Tintin, still standing vigil beside the patients.
"Will he be okay?"
Brains nodded confidently.
"A.a.a.a. Virgil has suffered a fractured skull, or not quite a fracture Mr. Tracy, more of a thin crack across the front of his skull, but no sign of serious trauma to the brain though. He'll be asleep for a few more hours probably and he'll have a very sore head, but he'll make a complete recovery. He'll be out of action for a number of weeks though."
"And Alan…"
Jeff was aware that the bullets had been successfully removed by Brains and Tintin, and that his youngest son was still hanging in there. But what were his chances? They could not possibly lose young Alan! He was still often treated like a kid on the base with his brothers. They generally called him `Kid' rather than using his name, and teased him mercilessly; but Alan was an extremely intelligent and resourceful young man, a little impetuous at times, but an invaluable member of International Rescue and well beloved in the family. Jeff knew that Alan's four elder brothers were particularly fond of him as their `baby' brother. Jeff fondly recalled each of his older sons helping to change Alan's nappies when he was a baby. He crossed to Alan's bed and noticed that a screen had been put up around it, no doubt in case Virgil woke up, to stop him fretting. Once he rounded the screen, Jeff could see why.
Alan was surrounded by monitors and probes and wires and needles. The automatic nursing computer had tuned itself up to full capacity. Jeff was aware that it meant it was having to keep the patient alive by means of special breathing apparatus, and by monitoring his heart, and stimulating it whenever it became dangerously slow or irregular. Tintin was sitting by Alan's bed, tears pouring down her face. She looked up as Jeff approached.
"He's not getting better Mr. Tracy. He was breathing better before, and now he can't breathe without the machine. His heart rate has gone down as well. He's getting worse instead of better. I'm scared Mr. Tracy. I'm scared. I don't want Alan to die!"
Jeff Tracy didn't want his youngest son to die either! He waited and watched throughout that night, as Alan grew weaker and weaker until finally the computer had him on full life support. As the dawn broke, Tintin awakened from her position, flopped across the foot of Alan's bed and wiped her eyes anew at the beeping of the monitors. Kyrano came in with a mug of coffee for his employer and gently led his daughter from the room, his arm around her shoulders.
"Come along my daughter, you need to eat, and there are some things I need you to help me with. You can come back on check on young Alan later. He'll be fine, don't worry Tintin. Now come along my dear."
Jeff turned away from Alan's bed with an effort and turned his attention to Virgil. Knowing that Virgil was in no danger had diffused the worry he knew he would normally be suffering at this moment, both about the boy himself, and about what International Rescue would do without him.
Under normal circumstances, with one member of the team out of action, the other three were well able to cover for him, but with both Alan and Virgil laid up, that left just Scott, Gordon and John. Gordon was an able pilot, but his notable skills lay more in the operating of specialized machinery than in piloting Thunderbirds One, Two or Three. At the end of the day, the success of International Rescue was the fact that all the boys performed the duties that they were most suited for. Evidently something similar was going through Gordon's own mind, for a few minutes later he appeared in the sickroom with his bag packed. Jeff frowned at him.
"What's the matter Gordon? Are you off somewhere?"
Gordon nodded stiffly.
"Dad, Virgil will be unsafe to fly for at least two weeks, probably longer…and as for Alan…"
Jeff nodded somberly. Gordon forced a smile.
"Dad, International Rescue is all about having the best equipment and the best pilots and the skills needed to pull off all our rescues. You know as well as I do that my best thing is underwater. I specialize in special operations, and underwater rescues. Thunderbird Four may be an important part of our work, but we don't often need to use it. If we have a rescue now, I would have to fly Thunderbird Two…and I'm okay with that, but John is a much better pilot than I am."
Jeff raised an eyebrow.
"John is older and has a lot more experience, that's all."
"Yes, I know that sir, but if we are called out now, we'll be only a two-man team. Some rescues need an extra man for Thunderbird Two. That is where someone with John's experience will become a lot more valuable than I could be…"
Jeff was taken aback. He was aware that his sons were dedicated to the saving of lives, and to the International Rescue Organization; and yet none of them had ever been placed in this kind of situation before. The good of the public and of the team must always come first. That was the primary rule, but Gordon had just proven that it was not just a rule they followed because their father said so…they felt it too…just as he did. He smiled.
"You're volunteering to take John's place on Thunderbird Five? I am very proud of you, son. Let Scott know and call Brains for take-off clearance."
John was not surprised by Gordon's decision at all when his father called him to let him know he was being recalled to base. He knew that simply being older and having more of an interest in flying made him better qualified than Gordon to replace Virgil, and that Gordon would come to this conclusion without the need to be asked. He greeted Scott and Gordon on their arrival at the satellite with the words "How are the boys doing?"
Scott and Gordon exchanged glances.
"Virgil will be okay. He's just got a very sore head. Alan's in a bad way. He's now on full life support. It's not looking good."
John nodded.
"It's not helping monitoring all the media wavelengths either. The whole world is awash with rumours about two members of International Rescue having been injured, possibly fatally, and speculation about what that will mean for the world if the rumours happened to be true and the two men die. It's been agony having to listen to it all."
Gordon dumped his carryall on to the floor and logged into the system.
"Well, maybe dad ought to make a formal announcement...to put a stop to unhelpful rumours? If people think we're no longer operating they won't call us when they need help, and lives could be lost. On the other hand, we might end up getting fake calls from people just after information."
Scott nodded.
"You have a point there Gordon. I'll speak to dad when we get back. I don't know how long you'll be stuck here boy. I guess at least until Virgil's back on his feet. How long it'll be before Alan..."
His voice broke and he turned away. Gordon watched Thunderbird Three as it started on its way back to base, and finished Scott's thought for him. How long would it be before Alan was back on his feet? Would he pull through?
To be continued . . .